I Only Need a Ride
by palmtreedragons
Summary: What if Rogue hadn't noticed Logan at the bar in the beginning of X-Men? What if a friendly, red-eyed Cajun caught her eye instead? X-Men Movie AU
1. Chapter 1

**So this idea struck me in my sleep, and I decided I needed to share it. This might be a one-shot, but if people like it I'll continue.**

 **A/N: I own no characters, I'm only borrowing them.**

 **~palmtreedragons**

* * *

 **Northern Alberta, Canada**

"This is it."

A young woman bundled in a cloak groggily climbed out of the large truck, shivering as the harsh snow fell from a black sky above. She turned back to the driver, barely more than a stranger. "Where are we?" she asked, eyeing the only building for miles—a small bar. "I thought you said you'd take me as far as Lotham City."

"This is Lotham City," the driver replied, turning from the lonesome girl and walking away. With no other choice, the girl trudged to the bar.

In the center of the noisy, bustling bar was a fighting cage, where two bulky men were brawling. Bike riders with beards and waitresses in skimpy costumes roared as the metal fence enclosing the cage rattled. It reeked of testosterone. Wanting nothing more than peace and quite—wanting nothing more than to go _home_ —the girl headed to a nearly deserted corner in the back, away from the bar and away from the adrenaline spiked men.

A table was set nearby, and a group of men were playing poker. One stood out from the rugged men surrounding him. Perhaps it was the mountain of money and winnings in front of him, or the fact that he was nearly half the size of the surrounding men, or maybe it was the sunglass shaded eyes staring directly at her that made him noticeable. The girl pulled her jacket around her tighter and averted her gaze. She only needed to stay until someone not too horrible looking stumbled out of the bar to leave; she only needed a ride.

She inspected the disgruntled men, all rising from the card table with less money in their pockets than before. She decided they were too drunk for her to be comfortable riding with. But one man did not leave the table. He sat with his eyes trained on her, a cigarette absentmindedly hanging from his lips and a card twirling in his fingers. Maybe he wouldn't be too horrible.

Seeming to take eye contact as a positive move, the man pocketed his winnings and pulled himself from his chair, taking his time approaching the girl. "Wha's a nice lady like you doin' all alone t'night, cher?" His heavy Cajun accent made his voice sound fluid and carefree.

The girl was reluctant to answer, but figured he would probably be the safest driver for the rest of the night; she didn't have a place to sleep, and the cold seemed very uninviting. "I need a ride."

The cigarette flicked upward with the corners of his mouth. "Where to?"

"Anywhere."

Glancing around, the man nodded, more to himself than to the girl. "Well, then, le's go." The girl followed the man to the small lot outside. He was wearing a leather jacket with the collar turned up. The darkness of the bar and the outside world obscured his features, but she could catch dark hair on his head as he sauntered into a patch on moonlight. He stopped uncertainly at a rusty, old two-door car. It seemed decades old, the paint nearly all gone, and one of the headlights shattered. She feared what state the inside of the car was in.

"Is this yours?"

With a sly grin, the man pulled a key from his pocket of winnings. "T'is now."

Shoving the key into the lock, the man climbed in. The girl glanced once more at the bar. A larger man with dark hair and sideburns stumbled out the front doors. She recognized his as one of the fighters from before. Pulling the creaky door open, she climbed in too. It smelled like something had died and decayed in the backseat, but the engine and heating worked, and that was all that really mattered. Fidgeting with her gloves, the girl pushed herself against the door, as far away from the giddy driver as possible.

He stopped himself from putting the car in drive. "M'names Gambit. What be yours?"

The girl eyed him with caution. "Rogue," she said simply.

"Rogue," repeated Gambit under his breath, trying the new name on his tongue. He smiled, and slammed his foot on the gas.


	2. Chapter 2

The ride was long and silent. The radio refused to play anything but static. (Rogue supposed it was because Canada was either small towns or forests that went on for miles.) Gambit seemed content with the quiet. He also seeme to be enjoying his new ride. Its upholstery was torn and worn out, and air and heating were unoperational, and the backseat was covered in suspicious stains. It seemed older than her grandfather, and yet the engine still ran. And that was all that mattered to its new owner.

Gambit had tried to start conversation with his new "partner in crime" as he had called her, but Rogue's answers were short and final, making it clear she didn't want to know any more about this man than where he would drop her off.

Gambit looked scandalized when she voiced this. "Wha' kinda gentumen woul' Ah be if Ah let a lil' lady out in da cold?"

Rogue frowned. It was a bit hard to get past his accent. It was much stronger than her own. "I'm just a hitchhiker. I ain't no 'partner in crime' or ya new best friend."

It was Gambit's turn to frown. "Fine. Jus' let me know where ya wanna go."

Rogue shrugged indifferently. "Ah ain't goin' no where in particular."

Gambit grinned. "Ah ain't headin' no place neither. I guess we'll jus' have ta see where da road takes us."

Rogue slid down in her seat, not liking the sound of a trip of undetermined length with the quirky driver.

* * *

"Do ya ever take those off?"

It had been nearly an hour since the last word had been spoken. Rogue long ago lost herself to her thoughts, but snapped to attention at the question. Gambit was looking quesooningly at her hands, and Rogue realized she was playing with her gloves. It was a nervous habit she had recently developed. She quickly stilled her hands.

"Do _you_ ever take those sunglasses off?" she shot back.

Gambit ignored her asking, instead pointing out, "It ain't tha' cold fo' gloves, Cher."

"It ain't that bright for glasses."

Gambit decided it was best to drop the subject, noting that for some reason the girl didn't like to talk about gloves. Or maybe she just didn't like to talk. Rogue busied herself with staring out the passenger window. Trees, trees, snow, and more trees. She frowned, missing the sight of a building, or even another person. Canada was much different than Missssippi.

She was suddenly aware that her driver was humming. Discreetly glancing to her left as not to draw attention, she could see he was lightly tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. It sounded light and jazzy, something happy. She returned to the dull scenery outside the small car's window.

* * *

Rogue was unsure when she had fallen asleep, but she was suddenly aware that the car was no longer moving. Her head felt groggy from sleep as she lifted it from its propped place against the window. Gambit was just opening the driver's car door, hauling himself out and stretching his legs. Rogue looked out the glass and saw a small gas station, if it could be called that.

It was a small store ahead of them, and there were only two pumps for gas. One was now occupied by them. A weathered pick-up truck was parked in front of the store. It was remote and run down and insignificant, but it was the closest to civilization Rogue had been in what felt like ages. She eagerly opened the door and hopped out. In the daylight, the car looked even worse.

Gambit gave her a toothy grin. "She's a beauty, ain't she?"

Rogue found herself rolling her eyes. Being able to stand on her own two feet had her in a good mood. "She sure is."

Gambit twirled the keys in his hand, heading towards the small establishment. "We leave in five. Don't wander too far."

Rogue watched him leave. She pressed her back against the car, leaning into the rusty metal. Another wave of homesickness passed over her. She missed her parents, her friends, her life. . . . This life on the road was exhausting. Gambit didn't seem to mind it, though. She wondered if he'd been doing this long; living in beat up cars he won in poker games, living off of junk food from convenience stores, picking up strangers and taking them across the country if they wanted. She had half a mind to ask him about it when he returned, but she supposed he would take it as an invitation to ask about herself.

Glancing upwards to the store, she could see Gambit leasiurely flirting with the single employee, a busty woman with spray-blonde hair. Rogue sighed, figuring all men were the same. She glanced down at her hands.

 _Do ya ever take those off?_

Rogue pulled off one of her gloves. The icy wind felt cool against her bare skin, and for once her hands didn't feel stifled by the concealing cotton.

"Hey there, sweetheart." Rogue quickly turned, aware of the new voice. A tall, burly man stood behind her, a mix between a sneer and a smile on his face. "You look a little lonely."

"I'm fine," Rogue said with as must coldness as the snow at there feet. The man grinned, taking a few steps forward. Rogue stood her ground; if he saw her uneasiness, he would only grow more confident. She tried to look indifferent, using her gloved hand to try and pull its pair back on.

The man grabbed at her wrist—just around the sleeve, no contact with her skin—and leaned in so that his face was inches from her own. Rogue tugged her arm, but it was stuck in the stranger's firm grasp. Any closer, and he would touch her bare hand. "C'mon, darling. You look like you could use some company."

"Rogue?" Rogue visibly relaxed at the sound of her companion's voice. Gambit was marching in the snow, taking in the sight before him. She guessed that behind the glasses, his eyes were hard.

"This little lady yours?" the man questioned lightly, as if he were asking about the weather.

"She's a friend," Gambit growled.

The man chuckled. "Surely you wouldn't mind sharing her for just a little while, would you?"

Gambit's hand reached into his leather jacket, retrieving something small and flat. "Las' time Ah'm askin'. Let 'er go."

"Or what?"

Straightening his back and holding his arm as if he were pitching a baseball, Gambit let the object fly. The skeevy stranger let go of Rogue in surprise, who tumbled to the cold ground. Rogue managed to catch the image of a playing card just before it made impact with the man's chest. Instead of bouncing harmlessly off of his chest, it sent him soaring backwards, landing harshly in a bank of snow several yards away.

Rogue blinked, trying to figure out how a card could do something like that. Gambit rushed to her side and put his hand on her shoulder. She turned to face him, and she realized it wasn't the card that had created this disaster.

"We gotta get outta 'ere, Cher," Gambit said hurriedly. Rogue saw through the store's front window that the fearful worker was speaking into a phone. Gambit was right; the police would be here soon.

Rogue looked back at the man she had barely known a day. His hand moved from her shoulder to her hand. She quickly snatched it away, knowing fully well what would happen if he touched her bare skin. She quickly pulled her glove back on.

Gambit mistook her reaction. "Ah won't hurt ya, Cher. Ah promise Ah won't. But we gotta leave."

Rogue looked at his extended hand. She could stay here. The police could come and she could tell them a psychopath did this. They could take her home.

Or she could stay with this stranger. A stranger just as deadly as she was.

She grabbed his hand, and he pulled her from the snow.

* * *

 **There's chapter two! For the record, I have no idea what I'm doing with their dialogue. I have barely any experience with southern accents, so some pointers would be nice.**

 **Also, I have a good deal of knowledge about Rogue and Gambit, but I don't know everything. Any cool facts would be nice to know!**

 **What do you think will happen next?**

 **Reviews are also cool guys! Thanks for reading!**

 **~palmtreedragons**


	3. Chapter 3

If the ride was quiet before, it was now dead silent. After all, there was no easy way to ask what had happened. Rogue had tried multiple times, but as soon as she looked at the once cheery man, now hard, the words would disappear. Rogue sighed with defeat. She was tired of snow and trees and silence, and she wasn't going to pretend she didn't see what she saw. "That was sure somethin'."

Gambit raised an eyebrow, glancing at her through his sunglasses. "Wha' was dat?"

"Ah saw wha' you did. Ah ain't gonna pretend Ah didn'."

Gambit sighed, readjusting his grip on the steering wheel. "An' wha're ya gon' do 'bout dat, cher?"

"Ah'm gon' ask some questions."

Gambit let out another sigh. Unlike the previous one, this seemed to be more out of irritation. A small smirk played on his lips. "Fine. Ask all ya want."

"Are you ah mutant?"

Gambit mulled over this for a moment. "Da's a strong word, innit? Ah guess so." To Gambit's surprise, his passenger grinned. Most people were horrified or scared at this news. Some even ran away.

"Ah guess Ah am, too. You're da first mutant Ah've met."

"Well, da's—" The engine suddenly spluttered, and the car slowly and shakily came to a stop. Gambit swore under his breath.

"Wha' happened?"

The driver threw open the door, clambering out into the brisk air. Rogue quickly followed, shivering as the air met her thin jacket and clothes. "Ah didn' get da chance ta fill up da tank back der. We ran outta gas."

"Wha' do we do now?"

Gambit shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned against the side of the car with a huff. "Now we wait."

Rogue stared in shock for a moment, before marching through the icy white blanket to the other side of the car. She stopped next to Gambit's side. "We wait? Wha' about the cold? Or the car?"

"Da car ain't workin' wifout gas, an' we ain't got no gas. As for da cold," Gambit leaned a bit closer to Rogue, raising his eyebrows suggestively, "ya might wanna come a lil' closer."

Rogue would have been offended, but she realized this was the first move he had made on her since she began hitch hiking with him. Gambit seemed like a very charming, flirtatious man; until this point, he had treated Rogue like a lady. She smiled with amusement, thinking there might be a gentleman under the surface of this man.

"Ah'll have ta pass," she excused politely, leaning against the car door. "Ah got anotha' question."

"Shoot," Gambit said wickedly, sliding a playing card out of his coat pocket. Rogue watched as he twirled it absent-mindedly between his fingers.

"Wha's your name?" The playing card stopped, as did any other small motion the man was in the act of. He then hung his head, and Rogue thought she might have seen a blush across his cheeks.

"I's stupid."

"It can' be worse than 'Anne Marie'." Gambit tried to hide his laughter, but after exchanging a look with "Marie," he let loose. Rogue joined in, and for the moment she could forget about how cold she was, or how far away from home she was. " _Tha's_ a ridiculous name."

Gambit shrugged. "It ain't dat bad. _Marie_. . . ." He rolled the word around his mouth a few times, adjusting to the new name to an already familiar face.

"Don' go callin' me dat," Rogue warned. Gambit held his hands up in surrender, promising he would try his best. "C'mon, Ah told you mine. You gotta tell me yours."

Gambit sighed. A moment of silence fell between the two. "Remy LeBeau."

Rogue quickly disguised her snort of laughter as a cough. "Remy" was too smart, and only frowned.

"Go on—laugh. Ah know ya want to."

Rogue allowed herself to laugh—really laugh—for one of the first times since she hit the road. She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, taking a deep breath to calm herself. "It ain't dat bad. Ah kinda like it. _Remy_."

Gambit continued to frown. "Don' call me dat."

Rogue laughed once more. She glanced at Remy— _Gambit,_ she corrected herself—and realized they were closer than before. Their shoulders were touching, and she could feel his breath on her face when he talked. A wind blew past, and Rogue shivered. Gambit took notice, draping an arm around her shoulders. Rogue tensed—her first thoughts went to him touching her skin. Fortunately, his arm was covered, and his hands were gloved. She allowed herself a moment of comfort. It was one of the first times someone touched her since she was a normal, small-town, southern girl.

A twig snapped in the distance, and before Rogue could blink, Remy— _Gambit_ —turned around. His muscles tensed as he took sight of a stranger standing at the brink of the woods. His fair hair was long and mangled, and his face was twisted in a snarl. For a moment, he seemed more animal than man. The stranger locked eyes with Rogue, who gasped in surprise.

He started towards Rogue, and she tumbled backwards. Her feet slipped, and her fall to the ground knocked the breath out of her. Gambit positioned himself between the two, and his card in his hand became a weapon, not an idle toy. He threw the thin card, and the animal-man lunged. The card landed in a tree, and Gambit was sent flying to the ground.

It took a moment for him to comprehend the rough hands around his neck, and the lack of oxygen entering his lungs. The stranger's face loomed above his own as Gambit tried to pry at the sturdy fingers. Black spots danced in his vision and Gambit gasped and gagged. He thought he heard Rogue's voice calling his name—

 _Rogue_. He would be damned if he let this monster get his hands on her. He tried with more effort than before to escape his attacker, but his resistance was futile. As Gambit faded from consciousness, he thought he saw snowy wind swirl around him, as if someone had known he was in need and had come to help.

* * *

 **Chapter 3 is finally up! Sorry for the delay, but exams have been taking up a lot of time.**

 **A/N #1: I've decided to do mass updates on Saturdays, where I update all my stories at once. Hopefully this works.**

 **A/N #2: Thanks for all of your positive information and comments! I was starting this as a one-shot What If, but I'm really glad people liked it so much. As for what I'll be following, I have not seen the 80s series, or read many of the comics. I do know a somewhat in-depth summary of their relationship, though, and I'll try to make this a mix of comics information and the X-Men movies (as I'm most familiar with them, and this is an X-Men Movie AU). Also, this is an AU, so I'll be putting my own twist on things where they need to be so it fits the plot.**

 **A/N #3: In case the ending wasn't too clear, the X-Men are coming up!**

 **Well, tha-tha-tha-tha-that's all, folks! (Please forgive me for the Looney Toons reference. It's way too late.)**

 **~palmtreedragons**


	4. Chapter 4

Gambit bolted upright with a surprised gasp, which sent him into a coughing fit. Grimacing, he lightly lifted his fingers to his throat, and felt the tender, bruised flesh. His breathing hitched occasionally due to the uncomfortable injury, and he was almost afraid to try and speak. The injury didn't bother him—no, he had been in much worse shape. What unnerved him was that he was no longer brawling a stranger in the snow.

He was in a small but nicely furnished room; the walls and floors a dark oak, and the sheets to the bed he was in white and crisp. Pushing himself into a sitting position, his head violently revolted. His vision swam before him, and Gambit tried to blink away the pain. Disregarding the dizzying spell, he stumbled from the bed. He knocked a glass of water off the bedside table in his haste, and his knees buckled underneath him. Gambit leaned heavily against the wall, trying to take the deepest breath he could. He hadn't been this bad since New Orleans.

"Good. You're awake." Gambit spun towards the new voice. Bad idea. His feet tumbled out from under him and he crashed back onto the bed. He let his head fall limply to the covers, giving up the will to continue his fight against his body's wishes. The man who had appeared by the door—an elderly, bald-headed man in a wheelchair—smiled warmly. "It's quite alright to be stunned. I understand. You must have many questions."

Gambit's mind flashed back to the strange attacker, to— _"Ro—"_

The man frowned as Gambit submitted himself to another fit of coughing. He waited politely for Gambit to collect himself. "Well, I'm sure you knew that wasn't the best idea. The swelling of your throat should go down in a few days; as for your friend, she's fine. She told us everything."

A pang of fear sliced through Gambit, but he wouldn't dare let it show in front of this stranger. His mind raced as he suddenly wondered whether he was a guest or a prisoner. It all depended on who Rogue told them he was: Gambit, or Remy LeBeau.

The man took notice of this, and gave him a peculiar look. "My name is Charles Xavier. You are at my school for young mutants. We found you battling one of our enemies, Sabretooth. My X-Men came upon the scene in just enough time to rescue yourself and Rogue. You are safe. If you wish to see your friend—"

Gambit cut him off with a quick nod that sent bolts of pain through his throat. Xavier smiled, and exited the room to fetch the young girl. Gambit, still laying on the cot, tried to slow his mind. Xavier—mutant school—Sabretooth—X-Men—Rogue. It was all too much for his drugged up brain to comprehend. All Gambit could focus on was getting to Rogue, and finding out if the Charles Xavier knew that the Prince of Thieves was now laying under his roof.

* * *

Charles was taking too long, Remy decided finally. It took agonizingly long for him to regain his footing and stumble to the door, but he found the unlocked exit a good sign. Perhaps they had no clue who he was; just another stray mutant who had gotten caught up in affairs unrelated to himself.

His feet were bare, and he was in what looked like loose fitting gym clothes. Gray definitely wasn't his color, he thought as he silently threaded down the halls. They were almost too quiet and too bare. A ringing noise suddenly erupted—an alarm was his first guess, in his drugged state of confusion. Maybe they noticed he was gone. Gambit quickly turned a corner, keeping himself flush with the wall as not to be seen. The stampeding sound of shoes and mindless chatter suddenly met his ears, and he spared a glance around the corner.

Just a bunch of kids. Backpacks, street clothes, and textbooks to boot.

Blinking away his confusion, Gambit tore off down the narrow hall; his mind was set on a way out, but before that, Rogue needed to be located. They needed to get out of whatever the hell place this was. Another bell sounded as Gambit found himself at a banister, overlooking a floor below. Just down the hal was a window—an _open_ widow, that could easily fit a figure roughly his size.

But then he looked over the banister once more, down below at students milling about, and suddenly he wanted to shout. Something stopped Remy from calling out, though. Perhaps it was his instincts telling him his throat was in no condition to even speak. Or maybe it was the sight of Rogue laughing, shoulder-to-shoulder with another schoolboy, who was smiling cheerily back.

He had only ever known the Rogue from the road: defensive, cautious, and witty. It seemed so foreign, her looking like a normal, carefree girl surrounded by normal, carefree students. Normal boys. She looked happy—and with good reason. This was no place for him, but it was the perfect place for her.

Gambit turned on his heel, and climbed out the window.

* * *

 **This one's a little short because I haven't written much this week, but there's a little foreshadowing to what's coming next. As always, review, comment, suggest, and thanks!**

 **~palmtreedragons**


	5. Chapter 5

When Remy woke up, he was right back where he started. Only now, he was sure his foot was broken.

"If ya keep this up, ya gonna kill yaself." Turning as much as his injured neck would let him, Remy couldn't help but break into a grin.

" _Rogue_ ," he mouthed, because he was sure his voice sounded worse than nails scraping across a blackboard. He expected the throbbing of his neck. What he wasn't expecting was the throbbing in his foot. And he definitely wasn't expecting the swat at his shoulder.

"Wha'd ya think ya were doin', Remy?" Rogue scolded. "Ya fell outta window!" _Yeah, fell_. Most likely he tried to scale down the wall and blacked out and . . . fell. As if on cue, his foot throbbed painfully. He would have defended himself from Rogue's accusation with some perfectly plausible explanation, but his dopey smile was back on his face. No one had called him "Remy" in a while, and it kind of sounded nice. Especially from Rogue.

He glanced down to his foot, and it was indeed in a cast. Rogue followed his eyes and sighed. "Yup. It's broken. Honestly, wha' were ya doin'? Mista Xavier told me he spoke with ya."

Remy would have nodded, but suddenly he felt drowsy. _Stupid painkillers_ , he thought sleepily. He still had so many questions to ask: Who are these people? What do they want with us? They say it's safe, but is it? Where's my (somewhat stolen) car? Who was that guy you were with earlier?

Rogue noticed Remy's fatigue, and gave him a kind smile. "Ah'll let ya sleep." She rose to leave, and Remy sleepily reached for her hand. As soon as his fingers met her gloved ones, her hand flinched away. Disappointment filled Remy. He wasn't expecting her to kiss him or anything. He just wanted her to stay—which she clearly didn't want to. He didn't have much time to think, or to see Rogue after the flinch; he was already out cold.

* * *

The next time he awoke, a stern man with tinted glasses was staring at him. He wasn't sure what to say—well, he couldn't _say_ anything, but neither did the man. They simply stared. After a moment that seemed like a lifetime, the stranger peeled himself from the wall he was leaning against and slowly made his way to Remy's bedside.

"My name's Scott Summers. I'm a teacher here." The corner of Remy's mouth twitched downward. It was a bit unnerving, those glasses. You couldn't see what he was looking at. It just made his face seem more cold and distant. In Remy's mind, he already decided he was an ass.

"The Professor sent me to speak with you." Another statement. No questions, nothing to respond to. So Remy sat, and waited for Scott to get to the point. "This is a school, Gambit. Our top priority is safety." Gambit tried for a nod. It didn't turn out so well. Scott leaned closer to Gambit. "If no one told you yet, Professor Xavier is a telepath."

Remy—Gambit, as far as these people knew—tried not to show his unease. A mind-reader? Well, shit. He was screwed. But best not to let Scott-I-Have-No-Emotions-Summers see this. So he trained his face to perfect neutrality. Maybe they didn't know. Maybe this Professor had a respect for privacy.

"He's a very powerful mutant. Not many can resist his powers." _Shit, shit, shit_. "So, imagine our surprise when he can't get a thing out of you." Relief was an understatement. Remy just felt as if the weight of the whole world had been lifted off his shoulders. They didn't know a thing about him. But that just made them suspicious. Outside of Remy's head, he tried to look as confused as possible. He was glad for his excuse at silence.

"Any idea as to how this happened?" Remy tried to shake his head no. Scott stared for a moment longer—Remy squirmed the whole time—and, unsatisfied, Scott left the room.

* * *

 **Sorry for the shortness of the past chapter or two, but I've been trying to get through some of my "to-be-read" books from, like, two years ago. But the next chapter will be long I promise!**

 **A/N #1: As always, tips, ideas, and corrections are always appreciated! Especially because I'm going to be getting into Gambit's backstory. I know the jist of it, but I'm a little foggy when it comes to details, especially since I have not seen the animated series, and have not yet gotten to the X-Men comics.**

 **A/N #2: I've had some confusion about Remy's nickname for Rogue, but** Jehilew **manage to explain it a bit to me. So hopefully no more errors!**

 **Thanks** **you guys!**

 **~palmtreedragons**


	6. Chapter 6

When the Professor visited and asked Remy if he wanted a tour, e thought he might scream. It had only been a day, maybe two, but being bedridden was torture to the mutant.

Escorted down the halls, a wave of light-headedness washed over Remy. He quickly brushed it off; they would force him back to bed if they knew he wasn't well enough, and he really didn't want to go back there. Scott's warning that hey were suspicious rattled around Remy's brain. It was best to get an idea of the compound. It might be handy if he needed a getaway plan.

Xavier noticed Remy's silence, not needing to read his mind to know he was tense. It want like he could read his mind, anyway. "Gambit, this is a school for mutants. You'll be safe here from Magneto."

Remy frowned. "Wha's ah Magneto?" His throat stung and his voice croaked, but if he whispered, he could finally speak.

"He is a very powerful mutant who believes a war is brewing between mutants and the rest of humanity. I've been following his activities for some time. The man who attacked you is an associate of his named Sabretooth."

"Sabretooth?" Remy laughs hoarsely. "Wha' do dey call you? 'Wheels'?"

Charles smiled at the jab. "You have quite a sense of humor, don't you, Gambit?"

Remy stopped short. The Professor paused, too, turning his wheelchair to face the young mutant. "Scott told me 'bout ya pow'rs. He said ya was suspicious," Remy said firmly. (Or, as firmly as his throat would let him.) He made sure to only state facts.

"Scott is very protective, not only of these children, but of this school. He is suspicious. I am only curious."

Remy frowned. To them, he was Gambit, rogue mutant that could miraculously deflect the world's strongest telepath's powers. Either the Professor was stupid, or he was hiding something. The latter seemed more likely. Not liking to dwell on the subject, Remy quickly plowed on.

"So," he croaked, "wha' do people t'ink of ah mutant school?"

"To the outside world, we're only a school for the gifted," replied the Professor coolly. Remy took that as, " _We're in hiding_."

"The students are mostly runaways," continued the man, turning his wheelchair and heading down the hall. Remy followed slowly. "Some of them with gifts are so extreme that they've become a danger to themselves and to others. Rogue, for instance, is incapable of human contact, probably for the rest of her life. And yet here she is, with others her own age, being accepted, not feared."

Though his feet kept moving, Remy's mind was stuck. Sure, he knew Rogue was a mutant, but her abilities were new to him. He didn't know why she was on the run. All he really knew was her name. Suddenly every flinch made perfect sense. He fought down the urge to find her, to . . . to do what? "Wha'll happen ta her?"

"That decision is up to her. Either she'll rejoin the world an educated woman, or stay to become one of what my students have affectionately called the 'X-Men.'"

"An X-Man?" Remy questioned. Magneto, Savretooth, X-Men—who came up with these names?

"Scott is their leader," continued the Professor. They made another turn down the hall. "Storm and Jean are also a part of the group. They were some of my first students here. Now, they help me teach a new generation. Many powerful mutants are out there, and many of them do not share my respect for mankind. Without anyone to protect them, humanity's days might be numbered."

"That's nice an' all, but wha's dat gotta do wif me?" Remy cringed as he swallowed. He could really go for a glass of water right now.

"Well, perhaps you and Rogue would like to stay." This brought Remy up short. All his secrets, all his lies, and they still wanted him to stat? No doubt questions would be asked. Questions that only had bad answers. He wanted to say no, but something deep inside him wanted to say yes. But Remy—now Gambit—was only reminded of the last time he was a part of a group; that ended with someone dead.

Xavier sensed Gambit's hesitance. Perhaps being so used to people's thoughts, he could read minds without his power. "I'll make a deal with you, Gambit. Give me fourty-eight hours to find what Magneto wants with you, and perhaps, if you feel comfortable and confident here, and you still want to stay, you can stay as long as you like."

* * *

 **AAAH! It's short, I know! I just cat seem to get emough on the page. I know where I want to go with this, but it's just coming out . . . flat.**

 **Excuses, excuses, I know. Hopefully next time will be longer!**

 **Also: some of the dialogue was from the X-Men movie. Suppose I should give credit to that.**

 **Stay awesome!**

 **~palmtreedragons**


	7. Chapter 7

He was back in a bed, hopefully for the last time. Some red-head in a doctor's white coat was gingerly touching his throat, inspecting the swelling.

"Like wha' ya see?" They were nearly inches apart, and she was so focused on her work that she only let out a "Hmph." Remy frowned. Slowly, the nurse pulled away, grabbing a pen and marking down some notes.

"The swelling's mostly gone down. I would say to take it easy for a few days, but chances are you wont listen."

Remy shrugged. She was probably right.

* * *

She led him to a room. _His_ room. A bed, a closet, a window; it was an ordinary school dorm room. Compared to the many strangers' cars he won in card games as beds, this seemed like heaven.

Of course, there were several more attempts at flirting (which she seemed immune to). "Where's ya room?" he asked casually, opening and inspecting his closet. It would have been nice, if he had anything to put in it.

"With Scott, down the hall."

"You an' Scott?" Remy let out a low whistle.

Jean, as he learned her name was, crossed her arms. "He's not that bad of a man. He's just protective. And with good reason," she added with a glare.

Remy shrugged, deciding it was best to let the conversation die.

* * *

He was dreaming. That much he knew. But it didn't stop any of it from feeling any less real. _The LeBeau clan and the Thieves' Guild. Bella Donna Boudreaux. Dr. Nathaniel Essex. Julien's death—death by Remy's hands. The Mutant Masacre. More deaths._

And Remy bolted upright with a gasp, arms flying forward blindly. His hand collided with something—something that shouted his name and anchored him to reality.

"Remy?" Panting, Remy blinked his eyes in the darkness. _Rogue_. She was staring into his eyes—and suddenly Remy realized she was looking at his eyes for the first time without his sunglasses. She was looking into his red eyes; the eyes that forced whoever his parents were to abandon their demonic mutant child; the eyes that gave him the name of Le Diablo Blanc; the eyes that scared practically every non-mutant he met.

His hand had landed on her bare shoulder— And suddenly his vision began to blur. His stomach churned and his head pounded and distantly he heard someone—Was it Rogue?—calling for help. _Rogue is incapable of human contact, probably for the rest of her life._

Unconscious, Remy slumped out of the bed and onto the floor, seizing.

* * *

And when he woke up, she was gone.

He ignored the dull, fading pain coursing through his body as he tracked down the Professor. It wasn't hard to find him; How far could a man in a wheelchair go?

"Wha'd she do ta me?" he croaked, both from injury and drug-induced sleep.

The Professor sighed. "When Rogue touches someone she absorbs their energy, their life force. In the case of mutants, she absorbs their gifts for a short time."

"It fel' like she almost killed me," Remy admitted. Rogue, who looked like she couldn't hurt a fly. Rogue, who had almost killed him just by touch. He felt a sort of guilty pleasure; every flinch around him wasn't because of _him_ , but because of her power.

"If she'd held on any longer, she could have."

The woman with white hair—Wasn't her name Storm or something?—burst into the room, followed closely by Cyclops. Remy tried to hold back a sigh at the latter appearence.

"Where is she?" Storm asked.

Remy frowned at the urgency. "Who?"

"Rogue," said the Professor simply, closing his eyes and searching for her with his powers. He opened his eyes once more. "She's gone."

* * *

A device in the wall scanned Xavier's eyes, and the doors opened. Remy followed Xavier into a big, spherical room with a platform at the center. Scott and Jean waited by the door.

The Professor wheeled himself along the platform and into the round room. "Welcome to Cerebro."

"Wha's ah 'Cerebro'?"

"The brainwaves of mutants are different from those of average humans," the Professor explained. "Cerebro allows me to find those brainwaves across great distances. It's how I plan to find Rogue."

Remy's brows furrowed in confusion. "Why don' ya jus' find Magneto wif dis?

The wheelchair-bound man sighed. "I've been trying. But he seems to have developed some way to shield himself from it."

"How would he know how ta do dat?"

"Because he helped me build it," answered the man tersely. He picked up a large helmet, and began to place it on his head. "Now if you'll excuse me. . . ."

Remy took his cue to leave the room. The doors closed behind him as he joined Scott and Jean in the hall. They waited in silence, Jean looking at the door, Scott (possibly, the glasses made it hard to tell) glaring at Remy, and Remy staring at his feet. Remy had overheard someone chatting about Jean's powers: telekinesis and minor telepathy. Remy vaguely wondered if she could use this Cerebro, too.

He was saved from any further, darker thoughts by the opening of the door. "She's at the train station."

"Where is it?" asked Remy immediately.

The Professor answered immediately. "About two miles from here." Remy turned on his heel and stalked off. "Gambit," Xavier called after him, "you can't leave the mansion. It's just the opportunity Magneto's waiting for." Remy suggested something quite unrepeatable in front of most of the students at the school.

It turns out Scott was actually useful in something: his motorcycle went really fast.

* * *

 **First of all, I read my last chapter to get a feeling of where to go with this one, and WOW! I'm _so_ sorry for all of those grammatical errors! That was bad, even for me!**

 **But on a lighter note, I think this chapter is fairly better. And longer. Hope you enjoyed!**

 **A/N: Fixed a typo in here. Copied some dialogue and accidentally had Prof call Remy "Logan." Whoops!**

 **Stay awesome, my dudes!**

 **~palmtreedragons**


	8. Chapter 8

It's funny. You never know how much you miss touch. People worry over losing their eyes, their hearing—but no one ever thinks about touch. It's like that whole "you only want it once you can have it" saying.

Starig at the mither across the aisle, stroking her son's hair, touching his cheek, being motherly, being _human_ —it was excruciating. She pulled the hood closer around herself, trying to shield the entire train's interior from view. Maybe it would be a quick ride. But the mother continued to read the story, and Rogue couldn't help but stare. She trained her eyes on her hands in her lap.

Out of the corner of her eye, a figure stopped by her row. Don't sit next to me. Please keep walking.

"Hey, shugah."

Rogue's head snapped up at the figure and his impossible voice. "Remy?"

The Cajun slid into the seat next to her, and she didn't protest a bit. He was there, with his charming grin and his deck of cards as his red eyes. Red eyes that Rogue hadn't noticed until they were closing, and Remy was on the floor. Knowing she was staring at his physical mutation, he quickly lowered his gaze, almost in shame. "'Bout las' night—"

"'S my fault," Rogue said quickly, eyes locking back on her hands clamped tightly in her lap. "'M sorry."

"Ya ain't got nuthin' ta be sorry 'bout, chère." Rogue allowed herself a small smile, her lips barely turning upward at the corners. Remy continued on. "Ya runnin' again?"

Again. This wasn't the first times she was running. She would be a fool to think it was the last. "Ah heard da Professuh's mad at me."

Remy visibly tensed beside her, and for a moment she was afraid he was going to punch someone. Instead, he simply started turning a card over in his hand. "Who tol' ya dat?"

"A boy at school." Rogue's cheeks burned as she realized how stupid it sounded. Remy didn't say a word. He just kept his eyes low, and his card flipping. There was only one reason he would be here: "Ya think Ah shoul' go back."

"Honestly, chère. . . ." He weakly trailed off, not knowing what words to put in front of him. "Ah dunno."

"Then why're ya here?" Her guess was that the Professor had sent a familiar face to retrieve her. If not that, then what was he here for?

Another wordless shrug from Remy. "Ah don' know where you shout' go. . . . All Ah know is Ah wanna go with ya." Stunned was the right word for how she felt. This complete stranger—well, she suppose they passed _stranger_ a while ago—didn't want her to be alone. Suddenly it all came crashing down on her—how much she missed he family, her home, her life. She missed what he life _could have been_. Remy seemed like he's been alone for a long time; Rogue wondered if he had this moment, too. A momet when he wanted to run to wherever his home was, even though that was impossible.

Rogue bit her lip hard, trying not to cry. Remy moved his arm around her hood, careful of her skin. The fact that such a simple gesture felt so strange only made her cry harder. She leaned into his leather jacket, trying to wipe her tears away. Remy slowly, almost awkwardly, rubbed her shoulder through the jacket.

"Maybe goin' back woul'n't be so bad," Remy murmured quietly. The train lurched forward, pulling out of the station. He then shifted, turning towards Rogue. "Wha' do ya say? Wanna go back? 'Cause wherevuh we go, Ah'll take care of ya."

"Ya promise?"

"Yeah," Remy said, sounding as if he hadn't said the words in a while. "Ah promise."

The train violently stopped. The power went out shortly after, causing a few people to scream. Suddenly, everything made of metal began to shake. The door bowed outward, and a helmeted man levitated himself in. Rogue glanced at Remy as he stood, the card in his hand now glowing a pale purple.

"You must be Gambit," the man declared in a drawling tone. Remy raised his arm, preparing to theow, but he gasped. Rogue watched the light fade from the card, and the thin weapon slid through Remy's fingers. It fell lifeless let to the floor. His hands went to his next, pulling at something—a metal necklace, Rogue realized with a bolt of fear. The metal man was choking Remy.

Eyes now turning to the man, Rogue could see his arm was outstretched, controlling the metal. Remy tried to move, but it was like a dog yanking on its leash. Slowly, he sunk to his knees.

With the flick of his wrist, the man sent Remy into The airspace, the tips of his toes just leaving the ground. Remy couldn't breathe. "Stop!" she called out helplessly. "Stop it!"

"It's funny," the man mused to himself. "This whole time, you've been thinking I was after _you_." With what little effort he still had left, Remy looked out of the corner of his eye to Rogue. He was just as helpless as she was.

With the flick of his wrist, the man sent Remy flying to the back wall of the train car by the chain around his neck.

Rogue ran. She ran until she felt a sharp prick in her neck, and she fell unconscious.

* * *

 **Ta da! Just a little Romy filler, but I have a cool idea about Remy's necklace. . . .**

 **Also, I was thinking, if I finish X-Men and people want to read more, I might continue into X2. What do you guys think?**

 **As always, I love your comments you guys! Thanks for all our support!**

 **Stat awesome, my dudes!**

 **~palmtreedragons**


	9. Chapter 9

"Ya said he was aftuh me," Remy growled. Somehow he had wound up back at the school, in his temporary room, laying on his temporary bed. All he had on his mind was that sicko mutant with the helmet, who nearly choked him the took his girlfriend.

He paused. Was Rogue really. . . ? The thought just slipped out without a though. It didn't matter what he was to her—what mattered was that she was gone. She was gone, and Remy let this _Magneto_ asshat take her.

"I made a terrible mistake," the Professor amended. At least he was honest. "His helmet was somehow designed to block my telepathy. I couldn't see what he was after until it was too late."

Apologies would get them nowhere. Sliding off the bed, ignoring the abrasions on his neck, Remy headed to the door. Storm eyed his curiously. "Where are you going?"

"Ah'm gonna find her," he replied icily through gritted teeth.

"How?" Damn the Professor and his voice of reason. How? Remy had no idea. But he kept walking nonetheless. Storm followed after him, intent on changing his mind.

"Gambit, you can't do this on your own."

"Who's gonna help me?" he asked heatedly, not slowing his pace. "You? Ya've all dunna bang-up job so far."

He had to give the lady some credit; she was persistent. "Then help us. Fight with us."

Remy laughed bitterly. "Fight with ya? Join da team? Be an X-Man? Who d'ya think ya are?" Storm nearly ran into Remy as he abruptly stopped. The Cajun turned to the pale-haired woman, red eyes blazing. "Ya're a mutant. Da world's full a people who hate an' fear ya, an' ya're wastin' ya time tryin'a protect 'em? Ah've got bettah things t'do." Remy turned and continued to walk to the door. This time, Storm didn't follow. "Ya know," he called over his shoulder, "Magneto's right. A war's comin'. Ya sure ya're on da right side?"

When Storm replied, it was eerily calm. "At least I've chosen a side."

Remy shrugged off the statement, throwing open the door. On the other side was a man—was he a man? He was pale a sweating, and his veins were starkly contrasted against hiss skin. "I'm looking for Dr. Jean Grey," he gasped, before falling into Remy's arms.

* * *

Remy hated waiting. He especially hated it when lives were at risk. The Professor was privately speaking with the senator, trying to get information. The only reason Remy was still here was the chance that the senator knew something about Rogue. It would be senseless to run off now without this information.

And when Xavier reappeared, his face was grim, but he had gotten the information. "The machine appears to cause mutation in humans."

Jean nodded slowly. She had tended to Senator Kelly in the infirmary, as she had quite a few times with Remy. "But the mutation is unnatural. Kelly's body is rejecting it. His cells began to break down almost immediately."

Cyclops spoke next, his voice as urgent and self-centered as usual. "What effect does it have on mutants?"

"There appears to be none," Charles further explained, "but I fear it will do serious harm to any normal person."

This was all terrible, but none of it interested Remy. He needed to know where Rogue was, if she was okay, if she was . . . alive. "What does he want with her?"

The Professor shook his head sadly. "I don't know."

"Wait," called Scott suddenly. "You said this machine draws its power from Magneto, and that it weakened him."

"Yes," replied the Professor slowly, remembering the memory of the senator. "In fact, it nearly killed him."

Remy understood almost immediately. "He's gonna transfer his power to Rogue . . . and use her to power the machine." She could die— _would_ die—when that happened. But that meant she was alive now, and that was all that mattered to him.

* * *

"I'm going to find Rogue," declared Xavier as he headed to use Cerebro. "Scott, ready the Blackbird. Jean, get him a uniform."

Scott turned his head towards the Professor. "Wait . . . he's not coming with us, is he?"

"Yes," came the simple reply.

"Sir, I'm sorry, but he'll endanger the mission. He'll—"

"Hey," Remy interjected. This guy was really grating on his nerves. "Ah wasn' da one who tore da train station ah new sun roof."

"Scott." Jean quickly mediated, trying to prevent the two men from harming one another.

Remy only chuckled, not one to back away from a fight. "Look, why don' ya take ya lil' mission an'—"

Storm stormed into the room. The fighting stopped when she declared, "Senator Kelly is dead."

Charles Xavier sighed in the silent. "I'm going to find her." His eyes traveled between the two men. "Settle this."

* * *

 **Almost to the climax! Thanks you guys for all your views, comments, and support! I hope you all enjoy this story as much as I do!**

 **A/N: Next week is my very first week of band camp! (Any band geeks out there?) Anyway, it's roughly nine hours, five days a week. My point is, I'm not sure how much I'll be writing the next two weeks. That doesn't mean I won't try, I'm just not making any promises. Thanks for understanding.**

 **Stay awesome, my dudes!**

 **~palmtreedragons**


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